Authors Note:: Well guys, here is the VERY VERY LATEST Chapter. I mean, this is super up to date now. That means I have to w rite more to it and THEN post, which might take a while. I might not be able to post a chapter a day, but I will keep you all updated! I cant really type three pages at a time so it will be a bit slow, but I guarentee you will like it!

Disclaimer:: I don't own you! But I will!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ::laughs maniacally::

Erin felt as if the wind had just been knocked out of her. She couldn't even murmur a thank you. But Carley, on the other hand, gasped in surprise.

"Carley told me… everything. I couldn't let your great talent go to waste." He held out the violin for Erin to take, but she didn't have the strength to lift her arm to take it. Her fears came rushing back…  "Come on, Erin!"  "You schizophrenic cheese bat! I said 'NO!'. Doesn't that mean any thing to you? I won't let you!" Erin let out a small whimper.

"I…I," Erin struggled to hold back tears but they came any way. "I can't!" Erin sobbed. "I can't touch that! I'm n-not clean enough to." She gently crumpled at the knees and came down to the floor. With her head in her hands, she cried. Not one word was uttered while Erin was on the floor. Carley took one step toward her grieving sister and stopped, over come by her own grief. Erik's eyes never left Erin. He knew her pain. He knew because his own life. After escaping from the circus, he felt as if he could never write music again. But he knew he had to. He had nothing else to live for. But Erin… Erin had a life. She had a loving sister, a beautiful voice, and, for the first time in his life, Erik was told that he was beautiful to his face. True, he had his mask on, but none the less, she had said the words.

Breaking out of his trance, Erik gracefully glided over to Erin on the floor and wrapped his arms around her. Erin accepted his arms with relief (all though she worried that her tears would ruin his black tuxedo). Gently, Erik began to rock Erin back and forth. Amazed that he began to rock without his knowledge, he began to sing on the same instinct. At first, he hummed the soft sweet melody, then he grew quiet as Erins sobs slowed down. Suddenly he heard singing. "Angel of Music, guide and guardian. Grant to me your glory. Angel of Music, hide no longer. Secret and strange, angel." Surprised at the words had heard/ he stopped rocking Erin. "Mademoiselles," Erik looked up at Carley, who was facing the starry sky in the window. She looked like a fallen angel. Tears were streaming down her face. "I think we should continue this tomorrow. Meanwhile, I think bed would be the best idea."

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." Carley whispered while she wiped away her tears. Erin didn't say anything. She only nodded her head that was still buried in Erik's coat. She had stopped sobbing, but the tears still ran. Erik lifted Erin off the floor and led her out of the parlor and into her bedroom.

"Mademoiselle? Can you…?" Erik looked at Erin's clothes.

"Yeah, don't worry about it." Carley gave him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder and took Erin into the bedroom.

Erik, a lone outside the bedroom door, walked back into the parlor and sat down in front of the piano. He looked at the piece he had composed for Christine. Memories of that night hit him like a brick wall. When he had found out that Firmin and André had put Carlotta as the role of countess. When he made a punjab lasso for Piangi. The way the formed rope felt on his hands as he slipped it over Piangi's head. The crack it made when his neck broke. When he quickly changed into Piangi's costume and masqueraded as him as he sang to Christine the words which he could not say before. Past the point of no return. No backward glances. The games we've played till now are at an end. The way Carlotta screamed when she first saw Piangi's dead body. The fearful eyes of Christine as he told her the truth. The glare Raoul gave him through the gate. The sound of Christine's pleading voice, begging for her true love's life. The tenderness of her kiss. The salty tears he shed as Christine and Raoul took the boat across the lake. The gentle and calming music from the papier maché music box shaped in thin the shape of a barrel organ and attached the figure of a monkey in Persian robes playing the cymbals. The smooth curve of this throne. The hard ceramic of his mask and the soft velvet underside.

Erik thought of these things and wept bitter tears.

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